


The Long Game

by angee1011



Series: Long Game [2]
Category: Stydia - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Eye Sex, F/M, Possible Fluff, Post Season 5, Romance, Stydia, as season six gets moving, possible canon divergence, pre season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7879972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angee1011/pseuds/angee1011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia's playing a dangerous game, but Stiles is more than up to the challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Stydia fic and my first fic on here. Possible one-shot. Rated M for mature themes and possible future lemons. I might write more if demand is big enough. Who knows. I'm trash, so here you go! Enjoy! 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

"She's driving me crazy, Scott," Stiles told his best friend.

It had been nearly a month since they'd defeated the Dread Doctors, and everyone was still waiting for things to feel normal again. Sometimes he thought they never would.

In an attempt to dispel the recent memories and losses, Lydia had decided to throw a party. She'd invited practically everyone in Beacon Hills.

Scott and Stiles were still uncomfortable around each other since their fight, but Stiles was willing to put it all aside for the night because he needed advice.

"Who?"

He gave him a look that suggested he was stupid. Scott rolled his eyes after a moment, muttering, "Lydia... Of course it's about Lydia." More loudly, he asked, "Didn't you give up on that?"

Stiles didn't say anything, his fingers picking absently at the fraying strings of his jacket. He had had a ten-year plan. Ten years and finally he saw some glimmer of it coming to fruition. Of course, he hadn't given up; more like he'd been delayed.

"Scott," was all he said. A grin tugged at his best friend's mouth.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Ten-year plan."

Stiles just kept staring ahead, gaze caught on the strawberry blonde who'd been torturing him all night, since before they'd even arrived at this godforsaken party of hers.

There'd been a picture of said blonde, a mirror, and some not so innocent underwear. The image was burned into his retinas and all he'd been thinking of since was if she was wearing it underneath her very short, very tight dress.

Scott wrinkled his nose, very aware of his friend's mood and couldn't help but laugh. Stiles, in turn, offered him a glare. "You're not helping, Scotty."

"I'm not sure how I could, Stiles. I'm pretty sure the only one who could help you at this point is Lydia."

He sighed. Scott was right. Lydia had worked him up and he was positive she knew it. Every so often she'd turn her head his way, curls bouncing with the motion, her eyes taking in how fidgety and miserable he looked.

But what he didn't know was just how much he was working her up. All night long his eyes had been on her, memorizing every inch of her, so hot that she felt herself burning alive. It was driving her out of her skull. Why she had to have this goddamn party was beyond her now. She just wanted Stiles to herself and had wanted that for a while... Which, she supposed, was why she had sent him that picture.

Lydia just hadn't expected to feel like she drowning as a result. And damn him for doing this to her. This game was meant to be hers, and hers alone. But Stiles, it seemed, was just as good at playing.

It was a while later, a lot of the crowd had dispersed, the party was winding down though far from over, when he just inebriated enough to do something stupid. Stiles had lost track Lydia after some time, caught up in his own musings of that picture and her and what was underneath all of it.

Scott had disappeared as well, too annoyed with Stiles and missing Kira too much to really enjoy himself. He had mumbled something about sleep and lacrosse and his mom, but Stiles hadn't really been paying attention. He could read between the lines, though, and he knew Scott. There was a void in his life now and he wasn't sure how to fill it. No amount of parties or alcohol would help him.

Stiles would lie to himself about why he was still there, mindlessly staring off into a corner while seated between two strangers, but there wasn't a point. He had to _know._ Making a decision, he made his way through gyrating bodies and pulsing vibrations to find her. With no luck downstairs, he took to the stairs a step at a time toward her room, pulse racing in time with the music. Anxiety pooled in his gut, making his head dizzy. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

At her door, he raised a fist to knock, noticing how it shook.

 _Shit,_ _not good._   _Not good._ _Get control of yourself._

At first, there wasn't a response, not even a shuffling of movement from inside. After little internal debate-- _because who was he kidding, he couldn't do this_ \--he turned to leave, giving up a fruitless venture. His cheeks were flush and he tried to convince himself that was because of the buzz still ringing in his ears. He didn't make it far before the door was swinging open and Lydia filled his view.

And what a view. The dress was gone now. And in its place was the sheerest nightgown he had ever seen. It was baby blue, silky and hung about an inch above her knees. His eyes traced over every curve of her, his brain already imprinting the image forever. He was especially caught by the swell of her breasts, which were loosely cupped by the gown. This reminded him of the very first time he had visited her room. 

 _Is she trying to kill me_?

Lydia’s face registered surprise for a moment before a smile started pulling at her lips, her green eyes shining with something Stiles couldn’t place. But the look she was giving him made him practically swallow his tongue all the same. “L-Lydia, I was looking for you.”

She leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms, which did wonders for her cleavage, and Stiles was on his way to becoming completely incoherent.

“Well, you found me.”

“Um. Yeah. I did. I found you. In your room of all places. Wearing...that.”

Sparing a glance, Lydia shrugged. “This is what I wear to bed.”

“There are still people here, you know. Who could see you wearing that.”

“So?”

“Sooooooo….” he scratched the back of his head, all out of words to say. Of course, he wanted to say that he didn’t want anyone seeing her wearing that and he wanted to ask why the hell she had sent him that picture. But he couldn’t seem to form anything remotely related to an actual sentence.

“Stiles,” Lydia said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He realized he had just been staring at her. And Lydia looked far too amused at his expense. “Would you like to come in?”

His heart stopped. “Would I like to….” _Hell, yes, I’d like to come in_.

“Inside my room, yes,” she replied, then turned and walked away, leaving the door open for him. Like an idiot, he just stood there, debating whether or not it was a good idea for him to actually go inside and face her head on like this.

Stiles still wasn’t sure what her game was, but he suspected she had been planning this little move for a while. He used to be able to read her better, but things had changed junior year... But now was the time to decide. Did he dare take this chance?

His feet moved him forward, his heart pounding with each step. “Close the door, Stiles,” she called, looking up at him from her place on the bed. She was flipping through a magazine, the picture of nonchalance. His eyes traced the length of hers legs. She gave him a gorgeous smile. _Yep, I'_ _m a goner._

The door closed with a _click._ Stiles tore his gaze away from her and looked anywhere else but at her. He focused on the vanity. It was different from the one he remembered, littered with what seemed like a thousand products, all meticulously placed. The mirror was mostly unobstructed but held a few candids of members of the Pack and Lydia. It was all smiles and bright eyes, and for a moment his heart hurt, especially when he noticed the toothy grins of Lydia and Allison in the only framed photo sitting to the one side of the mirror.

It was a painful reminder of everything that had happened since that night and brought him back to reality. It was as if a bucket of cold water had soaked him through; there was ice in his veins now.

She could feel his eyes on her like a caress, and it heated her skin. Lydia was trying to ignore the weightlessness in her stomach. Her heart beating fast, her shallow breath, and the slight fidgeting of her hands; it was because of neurons. _Neurons!_   _It_ 's  _just a physiological reaction to his nearness._ _There'_ _s nothing to be freaking out about!_ Try as she might, she couldn’t contain herself. All her planning and suddenly he was here. Stiles was here with her, and she was wearing practically nothing, and her heart was clamoring away inside her chest. There was a tightness there she hadn’t expected, and the implications of it had her questioning her next move.

She paused in her facade of reading and glanced at Stiles. He was tense, she could tell from how he stood, and it wasn’t because of the tension between them. He had a somewhat pained expression and suddenly she felt cold. Confusion filled her fast and she was on her feet before she could stop herself. He saw her coming but made no moves to stop her.

“What’s going on?” Her voice chimed quietly. All her nervousness was gone; in its place, worry began to lay low in her belly. Brow furrowed, green eyes met his grave, brown ones. “Stiles,” she said, placing a hand on his chest. “What is it?”

Her voice echoed through his mind, and he tried to make himself respond, but nothing would come out, so he just stared into her gaze, finding himself lost there. On a good day, her eyes reminded him of the forest, full of life, lush, and vibrant. On a bad day, they were a dark sea green that brought tsunamis and lightning. Now there were flecks of both the forest and the sea and all he could think was that it was Lydia. His Lydia...who could look at him with those eyes and swallow him whole, who could take away everything that threatened to drive him crazy and that he wasn’t enough for her.

How could he put into words how much he loved her? How could he go through with whatever she had planned for them when he knew his love wouldn’t fill her up as much as looking into her eyes filled him?

“I-I…” his voice faded as his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. “Lydia, I can’t do this.”

Her hand dropped and she stepped away from him. That gaze he loved so much scalded him in the next moment as a storm brew there. He knew he was treading lightly now.

“You…cannot do what, Stiles?” Her tone was sharp, pointed. Her walls were higher than ever. The distance grew between them once again.

He swallowed before replied, feeling like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. “Whatever this is…”

“Get out.”

“Lydia--”

“NO, STILES. Get. Out.” She walked to her door, swung it open and waited for him.

He looked at her a moment longer. Lydia’s faced burned. Her eyes stung. She refused to let him see any of what she felt, apart from anger. “Stiles,” she said, voice utterly calm.

Without another word, he walked out, sparing a glance at her, his expression full of apology when she didn’t want any of it. The moment he was out of the room, she slammed it shut, collapsing against it. The tears fell of their own volition. Outside, Stiles felt hollow, removed, and didn’t move. Whatever happened now, he was sure of one thing.

There was no bigger loser than him.


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO:

 

She was ignoring him. Not that he could blame her. After all, what right did he have to expect her to forgive him so readily? But the radio silence and complete lack of acknowledgment brought him back to those early days when Lydia had no idea he existed. It wasn’t a welcome feeling. 

Every day for the last week, one member or another asked him what he had done to piss her off. He hadn’t been answering any of Scott’s texts, so his best friend decided to drop in on him. He found Stiles doing what he does best in these situations. Compulsively digging through his entire collection of mythology and supernatural references. He had been building his own compendium of sorts--it was something that Lydia had helped him start--and he was scribbling something down in a notebook when Scott knocked on his door and pushed it open without welcome.

Stiles didn’t even bother looking up. His hand just kept moving, his brain focusing on the words as if he couldn’t make sense of them.

“You know, I could have been naked in here.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “That would have been easier to deal with than whatever’s going on with you now.”

At this, he stopped writing. “Nothing’s going on with me.”

“Stiles,” he replied. “You’re working on that stupid compendium thing, which you only do when you’re upset about something--or paranoid about some threat. Both of which would be bad. So which is it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”  There was beat where the only sound that could be heard were the keys Stiles pressed on absently. He looked over his notes as he typed, trying to gather his thoughts.

Scott glanced over the screen. “You’re on the chapter about banshees, Stiles. This is about Lydia.”

“No, it’s not. I’m just…” He continued moving his fingers absently. “...you know, adding information into this thing. It’s been a while and lot has happened. I haven’t really had the time what with dealing all the supernatural disasters that keep hitting this town.”

As he took a seat on the bed, Scott said, “Maybe you should talk to her, work it out. Lydia can’t be that mad at you, Stiles. I saw her earlier and she seemed like she was in a good mood.”

At this, Stiles finally ceased his typing and swirled in his chair, facing Scott. “That’s just Lydia being Lydia. How do you think she’s maintained being the reigning queen of Beacon Hills High for long without having an amazing poker face? Trust me, Scott. She wants to kill me.”

“It can’t be that bad, Stiles. Just go to talk to her. After all you two have been, I can’t think of a reason why she wouldn’t forgive you.”

“You don’t know what I did.”

“Doesn’t matter, Stiles. I know you, and when it comes to Lydia, you would never hurt her.”

Scott had a feeling that whatever happened between his two friends had something to do with the party Lydia threw. They had been dancing around each other that night for some reason Stiles wouldn’t relate. Scott had spent the small part of the last few years watching those slowly get closer only to watch the fragile friendship crumble away. Despite how much he missed Kira, he would be happy if Stiles and Lydia managed to work out the thing between them.

For the moment, Stiles was silent, pondering if it was really a smart thing to go talk to Lydia. To crack open that can of worms again. He had tried and failed so many times. If he didn’t take it seriously, then it would never be what he knew it could be. Lydia deserved so much more, and he wanted to be the one to give it to her. Even if the other night hadn’t seemed like it, Stiles put Lydia above anything else.

She deserved an explanation at least.

“You’re right, Scott. I need to talk to her.”

Smiling toothily, Stiles’ best friend replied, “I’m always right. How long’s it going to take for you to figure that out?”

Stiles offered him a roll of his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

Scott spent the remainder of his visit going over the things the pack would talk about at their next meeting. Stiles was a good soundboard for that sort of thing, even if he was distracted by thoughts of a certain strawberry blonde and his work on the compendium.

After Scott left, Stiles deliberated about sending a text to Lydia. It took me less than a minute to type it, but he hesitated when he was about to hit send. Before he could think twice, he tapped the screen.

_ Hey, look, I’m sorry. Can we talk? _

When he didn’t get a response after twenty minutes, Stiles called her. Surprisingly, she answered.

“If you think you’re going to be forgiven so easily, you are out of your mind, Stilinski.”

“Lydia, I have an explanation.”

Silence. Okay, she was giving him a chance. That was something, right?

“A lot has happened in the last couple of years, you know? With all of us, I mean. Scott’s an Alpha, I was possessed, then everything went to hell--it went to hell a few times, but you know what I mean--and we just got out that thing with the dread doctors, and who knows what’s next… I was actually just reading through some online news sites and there have been some weird disappearances recently, which I’ve been thinking about for a while and there’s  _ something _ there, but I’m not sure what. I’ve been researching it for a while now and going through the bestiary, but I can’t quite figure it out and--”

“Stiles.”

He sucked in a breath. “Right. Sorry. I got off topic. Anyway, we weren’t talking for a while, Lydia. I mean, we talked. But it wasn’t like before. And I know why. Things are good now, aren’t they? And when you sent me that picture, I thought, ‘Wow, oh my god, this is it.’ I screwed up. I know I did. And I’m sorry. But Lydia, can you blame for having a moment where everything came crashing down around me and I panicked? You’re so much more than just a casual thing to me, and I am so happy we’ve managed to become friends again. I just don’t want to mess it up. That’s all it is.”

Heart in his throat, Stiles stared at the wall. All he could focus on was the phone at his ear. She hadn’t hung up yet which was comforting. It wasn’t that difficult to admit this stuff to her. Not like he thought it would have been. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she already knew most of it. She had to. He wasn’t exactly good at hiding it.

“You are the biggest jerk,” she finally said, her voice thick with some emotion he couldn’t decipher, but it managed to even out his heart beat.

“But am I forgiven?”

“No. Not yet. You have to do penance.”

“And what does that entail?”

“You doing any and everything I say for the next two weeks.”

Grinning now, Stiles couldn’t help but tease her. “ _Anything_?”

“Stiles, wipe that smirk off your face. This won’t be fun for you. Imagine me looking fabulous and stunning--”

“--Not that hard, but okay--,”

“--walking to class, and there you are, behind me, holding my books and looking miserable. Imagine you making and bringing me lunch every day. Holding every door open for me. Honestly, I could go on and on. And for every time you don’t do something I tell you to, I add on a day to your sentence. Knowing you, this could actually go on for years. You're not that good at taking orders.”

Stiles was grinning from ear to ear now. Lydia literally had no clue whatsoever that he would already do all those things for her, without complaint, and expect nothing in return. But he could play along. He would make sure that he earned her forgiveness and didn’t do anything to mess up their friendship.

“Sure thing, Lyds. Whatever you want.”

“Starting tomorrow, Stiles, you’re my slave.”

“Got it.”

“Good.”

"Goodnight, Lydia."

"Night, Stiles..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I was hoping to make this a longer chapter, the words just weren't coming to me. I had the hardest time writing this chapter, which sucks, because I was hoping to make it up to guys for the long wait. Though with the holidays and work, there wasn't a lot of time for me to sit down and think this chapter through. I'm looking forward to where this story will end up. It's going to take a few twists and turns! And flow right into where season six, episode one picks up. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, feel free to leave whatever advice, comments and critiques you want! I appreciate feedback.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE:

 

There were moments where she almost felt bad for him. Key word being  _ almost _ . It wasn’t that he left her in what she thought was a turning point for them. No, that she could understand. What hurt her the most was that Stiles didn’t seem to believe that she had the same feelings as he did. There was a dull ache inside her chest as she went through the next few days. 

He did everything she told him to. He even went out of his ways to walk her to every class, waited for in the hall by their lockers before lunch and escorted to her car when school let out. She had spent more time with Stiles Stilinski than ever before. He was constantly there. All the time. Every time her eyes landed on him something inside of her clenched and her breath shortened considerably.

The effect he had her had always puzzled Lydia. It was a heightened awareness when he was around, something in his eyes managing to still something in her, his voice causing the storm inside to calm until nothing remained. It was that, more than anything, that caused her to keep him an arm’s length away. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what lay ahead on that particular path. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it. She wanted it too much.

Her punishment for him started backfiring on her a few days later. One night, near three in the morning, her phone rang. The shrill noise startled her awake, and it took all she had not to throw her phone at the wall. And when she saw who was calling, her first reaction was stark fear.

_ Why is Stiles calling me so late? _

She didn’t manage a word before she heard his voice. “Lydia? Are you awake?”

“I am now.”

“Good--that’s good. Get dressed. I’m outside. I need your help.”

“Oh God, did someone die? Stiles, if someone’s dead, I don’t want anything to do with it. I’ve met my limit for seeing dead bodies.”

“Just, just come on. I’ll be waiting.” And then he hung up. Annoyed beyond belief but for some reason tossing the covers away, Lydia padded her away to her closet. In minutes, she was dressed for a middle of the night excursion in a simple, nondescript outfit of jeans and a black sweater. Seeing what a mess her hair was, she just pulled it up and twisted it into a bun. As soon as she had on her boots, she was made her way downstairs, not caring to cover the fact she was heading out.

She was long past the effort to keep her mother from finding out what she was up to. After Eichen, they had a short conversation and came to an understanding of sorts. Her mother knew there were things she didn’t care to know, so she decided she wouldn’t ask. She would simply trust that if ever became too much for Lydia, her daughter wouldn’t hesitate to come to her. It was a relief to Lydia after all this time.

It was cloudless, the moon, waning, hanging low in the sky. There was a breeze that cooled her heated cheeks, for which she was thankful. She closed the creaky, metal gate behind her and stepped out onto the sidewalk, noticing Stiles’ jeep immediately.

She could see the boy in question through the windshield, tapping on the steering wheel. When he saw her walking over, he reached over and opened the door, making it easier for her to slide inside. Once she was settled and buckled in, Stiles turned the key in the ignition and pulled onto the street. He drove slowly, carefully, trying to be inconspicuous. Beacon Hills had put a curfew into effect last year in response to all the strange occurrences that tended happen, especially to the Sheriff's son and his friends.

Lydia didn’t even ask questions. All she had to do was give him a certain look, and Stiles would start rambling on and on.

“I was finishing that research paper for Lit, and then my dad got a call. Things have been too quiet lately. Something’s bound to happen sooner or later. I tried telling Scott about something I heard on the news the other day, something about an out of towner going missing near the gas station before the highway. It was last Friday during that really bad storm we had? Which, by the way, was crazy. Meteorologists were spazzing about that storm! It came out of nowhere. Strange, right?”

She was losing her patience. “Stiles,” she admonished. “Get to the point.”

He passed her a glance, nodded, and continued his explanation. “The point, Lydia. Yeah. I turned on the scanner and heard what happened. Some campers went missing, by the look of it.”

“Don’t tell me you dragged me out of bed to go traipsing through the woods in the middle of the night!”

“Campers. Missing. What part of that don’t you get?”

“I’m pretty sure this is something the police can handle, Stiles. It’s kind of in their job description.”

That earned her a scowl. “What if it’s  something, you know, supernatural! The police aren’t equipped to handle that.”

“And we are?”

“Well, yeah! Werewolves, a werecoyote, a Banshee, and me. We’ve got loads of experience under our belts too, which helps, for whatever this turns out to be.”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t thi--” he started.

“--Stiles!” Lydia admonished, glaring at him. “Stop it.” She watched him open his mouth then close it, his knuckles whitening from his grip on the steering wheel. Silence fell between them. She turned away to towards window and watched for a few moments as trees streamed by them.

There was a tense air between them that refused to dissipate. So she opted for something that was familiar territory for them. “Walk me through what you know.”

He didn’t answer right away, so she turned her gaze back towards him. “Stiles.”

Whiskey colored eyes glanced her way briefly, then focused back on the road that stretched out ahead of them. Then he let out a sigh.

“I don’t know anything. It’s just...there might be something.”

“Maybe there’s not,” she replied softly. Sometimes she wondered why he was so hell bent on throwing himself into the supernatural disasters around them. She knew he didn’t have a death wish like she’d previously thought. It had taken her ages to puzzle out his lack of caution in the face of certain death. Part of it was to prove himself (she understood that drive, as it was something she, herself, struggled with), and the other part was this need to save everyone no matter what. She almost admired him for it, if wasn’t for how much she would care if he did manage to get himself killed one day. After a moment of deliberation, she added, “Okay, let’s check it out.”

“Just like that?” His voice was full of disbelief, but she wasn’t fooled. She could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Who’s meeting us there?”

“I, ah, oh. Yeah. I should probably call Scott, shouldn’t I? Or Malia. Hm.”

Lydia looked at him and didn’t say a word. She let the silence work for her. She was a master at getting information out of Stiles Stilinski without even having to utter a word. In seconds, he tossed another look her way, frown on his face, and then said, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. Okay? I thought this could just be us. Since, you know, I messed everything up and you still haven’t really forgiven me.”

She bit her lip, struggling not laugh. It was hard to be mad at him when he looked so contrite and concerned. And if she wasn’t annoyed with him, she might even consider him adorable. “This isn’t what I’d call a date, Stilinski.”

They were on a back-road, somewhere north of Beacon Hills, where forests surrounded them on either side. The moon gave an eerie glow to everything, and if she wasn’t a Banshee and used to, relatively speaking, the supernatural, she might feel a touch scared. But something about Stiles wouldn’t allow her that fear. Somehow, she felt safe with him.

Especially when he pulled over at a rest stop, where a few cars were parked off to the side, parked next to the one closest to the trailhead and silenced his jeep. He paused before opening the door, meeting her curious gaze. She lost herself for a moment in the sudden heat she found there. She swallowed, her mouth dry. 

“You couldn’t handle a date with me, Lydia.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, never looking away. She fought to keep her heart from pounding. The challenge in that statement drove her to respond in kind, but there was something serious in his eyes that made her pause. 

_Maybe he's right_ , she thought.

Changing the subject, she forced herself to open the car door. “Let’s get this over with, Stiles. The sooner we’re done here, the sooner I can get back to sleep.”  He met her at the trailhead. They walked in silence; Stiles, for once, having nothing to say. 

She didn’t know what was happening between them. She didn’t know what the stakes were.  But, this time, she was playing for keeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give this to you all much, much sooner. You deserve a lot more than this chapter. But sometimes Lydia and Stiles don't cooperate with me when I want them to do something. I cut it short, mostly so you can see where it's heading. I'm working a lot of faith about what happens in-between seasons five and six. In episode one of season six, we learn that it's been three months Stiles has been dragging Lydia out of bed at least once a week, sometimes more than that. So I'm going to see what kind of shenanigans they manage to get themselves into. I hope you enjoy this chapter. And you can look for the next one by Friday. Work has been killing my schedule these past months and I've only now managed to get a few days off. So it's writing time!


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR:

 

He watched her as she worked, which didn’t help her concentration but didn’t completely disrupt her focus. She knew from experience that if her powers wanted her to know something, there wasn’t any stopping her from  _ seeing _ . As strange as it sounded, her powers were starting to feel normal to her. It used to be a foreign, detached experience that left her feeling surreal and sort of out-of-body. Now it was more seamless, a simple transition from one plane to another, at least relatively speaking. 

When they first came upon the abandoned campsite, they found a green, camo tent in between two trees, a fire pit with charred wood laying haphazardly in the center and a cooler sitting next to a mossy rock. Nothing seemed out of place (apart from the police tape that encircled the campsite itself), no sign of struggle, and she kept expecting to see the campers walk through the treeline at any second. It didn’t make any sense. 

Lydia started inside of the tent while Stiles made a comment about checking the perimeter. She unzipped the front the tent and leaned down onto her knees, climbing inside, the feel of a soft, fleece blanket beneath her fingers. There were duffels in the far right corner, opened and showing pieces of clothing. Lydia laid on her back in the center of the tent and closed her eyes.

At first, she was focused and alert to any sudden change that might come over her, but before she knew what was happening, her breathing even out and her body relaxed little by little until she was out, not even aware that the rest of the world had drifted away.

Not really sure how much later, she was startled awake by a hand on her leg and an amused call of her name. Immediately, she scrambled to sit up, green eyes wide and alert, her hair falling out her bun. When her gaze focused on the boy in front her, taking in his smirk and twinkling, whiskey eyes, she fought a wave of embarrassment as it crept up her neck.

“Stiles! This isn’t funny!”

He raised an eyebrow, that smirk not moving at all. Lydia noticed now that he was completely inside of the tent, sitting as best as he could in such a tight, cramped space. She had accommodated him by moving her legs underneath her as soon as she had jumped up, without even thinking about it. Now that Stiles was inside of the tent as well, she was aware just how small of a space it was. It just barely fit two people.

Her heart still racing from how she’d been awakened, Lydia fixed him with one of her famous glares, but it did nothing to alter his expression.

“You’re very cute when you sleep, Lydia. Even with drool coming out of your mouth,” he said, eyes glinting. Heat crawled up her neck and settled into her cheeks, a hand wiped across her mouth automatically. 

For a moment, neither said anything but seemed to be caught with a sudden spring of awareness that formed in the tight atmosphere of the tent. She coughed, trying to ignore the tension, and moved to a crawling position. She made her way out of the tent into the fresh, cool air the woods provided. It was a pleasant sensation against her face, cooling her cheeks. When she stood, she dusted off her jeans even though there was nothing there.

She heard rustling from the tent, and without looking, knew that Stiles was coming out. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself down. There was absolutely no reason whatsoever for her to be so….so….so damn frazzled!

But when a motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention, she shifted her focus onto Stiles who was fixing his shirt, which has slid up his abdomen, revealing the flat planes of his stomach. All of a sudden her tongue felt thick in her mouth. She caught herself in time, ripping her stare from his stomach and moved it over toward the darkness of the woods before he put his shirt in place and lifted his eyes to her.

“So before you fell asleep--” She rolled her eyes. “--did you get anything?”

“No.”

He was quiet. Waiting for her to say something else maybe.  _ Well, too bad _ . She was on her last nerve, and it was wearing thin. Her head was beginning to pound--and if she didn't get sleep soon, she was going to make him regret ever waking her up. 

A flash of light pulled her focus. Somewhere, miles and miles away, a storm was brewing. A shiver shot through her, and for a moment, she could swear she heard the rhythmic pounding of hooves and a loud song of horses whinnying.

The grip of a hand on her arm pulled her from a daze she hadn’t realized she entered. Her green eyes caught by Stiles’s. The concern--and more--she found there made her twitchy. She pulled away from his touch, absently sliding her hand over where his hand been. The warmth from it scalded her.

Sighing, she felt like she was going to collapse.

“Take me home, Stiles. This trip was a waste of a good night’s beauty sleep.”

 

*     *     *

 

The next day Lydia had to force herself to stay awake through her classes. More than a few times, she found herself yawning. Her feet dragged her forward through the hallway, and somehow she found the energy to greet people and provide the necessary smiles.

Stiles had met her that morning, continuing with his usual routine he’d develop since she had declared he make up for hurting her but had been uncharacteristically quiet. It didn’t bother her. She could read his expressions well enough. Something told her he was working out some puzzle and would tell her when he was good and ready. Whether that puzzle was supernaturally related, however, she wasn’t sure.

In the cafeteria, she found herself sandwiched between Malia and Stiles. With any other two exes, no doubt there would have been a mountain of awkwardness, especially considering Lydia being between them. Somehow none of that mattered. _Malia was too.... Well, Malia,_ Lydia thought amusedly. _And Stiles..._ Lydia focused on him as he took a drink of his water. _Well, he wasn't one to burn bridges, was he._

The Pack was in good spirits, chattering away about some group plan they have devised. She SO wasn’t on board, would find a way of it, but was rethinking that plan when she noticed Stiles’s smile. It was the first time that day he’d shown any sort of enthusiasm for anything.

_Well, it would give me another way to boss him around_. As if he knew her thoughts, he met her stare, the smile transforming into something softer. She held her breath and looked away. _Not good._ _Oh fuck_. She bid her friends a quick goodbye and tried to--calmly and inconspicuously--rush away.

A lot of good it did her. Stiles caught up to her in no time. A grimace was now etched onto her face, and she almost hated that she had anything to do with it being there. "Hey, are you okay?"

She gave him what she hoped was a normal smile without any of the panic she felt. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just realized I forget to turn in an assignment for one of my online AP classes." He just looked at her, considering her. After a moment, he nodded, seeming satisfied, offered her a smile, and said he catch up with her later. She absently watched him as he walked down the hall and then out of sight, returning back to the cafeteria.

School moved by in a blink after that. Not that she cared. Since she had all of her assignments finished, she skipped taking any books from her locker when the final bell rang and headed straight for her car.

Luckily no one stopped her.

When she was home, she made her way to her room, routinely put away her bag and her shoes, and collapsed onto her bed, lost in her thoughts.  Her brain was a pool of things-to-do, supernatural worries, and unsurprisingly, Stiles was at the forefront of her mind.

As her breath evened and eyes drifted closed, she belatedly realized she had forgotten to ask Stiles if he had told Scott about what they did last night. Her last coherent thought was to text him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know. Too long between chapters. I'm trying! This chapter was easier to write. And I think I know where the plot is headed. xD As always, feel free to comment, critique, anything. I appreciate the feedback. See you guys soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit NSFW near the end. But not in the way you expect. ;)

CHAPTER FIVE:

 

 

As the days turn into weeks, Stiles finds himself growing more and more anxious. Every day consists of school and homework. Weekends he spends catching up with his friends, Scott especially. It’s a normal existence. Like how every other teenager in the world lives. Like how his days went before Scott was bitten. Before he _changed_.

 _Well, when everything changed_ , Stiles thought.

The only thing that was not the same as before: Lydia. As in, he spent practically every night with her. More precisely, he dragged her out of bed somewhere around midnight at least three nights a week. Sometimes they checked up on possible supernatural related leads. Other times he took her to an all-night waffle house where they always ended up in some kind debate. About anything. Lydia, he noticed, had a knack for turning any conversation into a debate.

He didn’t know what he was doing.

But he couldn’t stay away from her. And for some reason, she never said no to the late night excursions. Something like hope had taken root inside of his chest, and he was having a hell of a time talking himself of it.

For some reason, he didn’t tell Scott about any of it. Stiles suspected that his best friend knew something was up, but he never brought it up. Stiles knew he should tell him something. Anything, really. But whatever was happening with Lydia, well, he wanted to keep it to himself until he knew for sure what it was.

As for the moment, he was about to get caught by a security guard that was currently patrolling the hallway he was at the end of. There was a door in front of him to his left, and one behind him on the right. His only hope was the door in front of him. The others he’d tried had been locked.

With a quick glance behind him to make sure the guard hadn’t turned the corner, Stiles rushed to what he hoped was his saving grace.

When he tried the handle, he felt a wave a relief wash over him as it completed its job and let him inside. Hurrying, he pushed the door closed and made it quiet. Still holding his breath, he took in the room he now found himself in. It was a small office. A woman’s. There was a desk that was littered with picture frames of small children and a few of a black labrador. A few filing cabinets took up space in the corner near him. A fern stood the other corner near the door. He eyes flitting at the other end of the room and noticed another door.

When he opened it, he discovered a closet littered with boxes. Forcing his way to the back, he quickly stacked boxes in front of him and then crouched down, hoping like hell he wouldn’t get caught.  
As seconds ticked by, his heart calmed to a steady rhythm. He’d lost track of how long he was there when he felt his pocket vibrating.

 _All clear_.

Lydia.

 _Thank God_. He’d been waiting for her.

Still cautious, he made his way back to the office and into the hall, treading down it as quickly--and quietly--as he could. When he neared the stairwell that leads to the first floor where Lydia was, he pushed open the door and finally saw the strawberry blonde curls he was looking for.

She turned around at the sound of the door being propped open and her sea foam eyes locked onto his, relief evident.

“Stiles!” she whispered. “What the hell? Wait, no. Just come on!” And she reached for his hand and tugged him forward, leading him all the way down the stairs and out of the exit at the bottom. The two of them made it to his jeep a block away without any conversation, only the sound of dogs barking in the distance and their heaving breath between them. When they finally were in the comfort and safety of his jeep’s cabin, Lydia finally rounded on him.

The glare in her eyes could level mountains. _Or me_ , he thought, still fighting to capture his breath. “I leave you for one second… One second! And you’re nearly caught by a guard! Do you have any idea how much trouble we could have gotten into by breaking into this place?”

“We needed to see what they knew about the disappearances.”

“They knew nothing. Like everyone else. I’m not even sure people are disappearing, Stiles. I’m not sure what we’ve been doing for past month. This has to end. You’re pulling at strings.”

“Come on, Lydia. There’s something here; I know it. I just need a new lead.”

“We’ve been to how many of these _crime scenes_ and nothing? I don’t get anything, Stiles. The papers aren’t reporting anything. Your Dad hasn’t said anything. I’m honestly starting to think you can’t accept that maybe there is no supernatural threat coming.” He doesn’t say anything. There’s been a voice inside his head for a while now--something similar to her voice--telling him the same thing. And lately, he’s been wondering if he’s going crazy. _It wouldn’t be the first time_ , the voice says. _Shut up_ , he thinks.

Great. Now he was talking to himself.

Lydia’s gaze searches his face, contemplative and earnest, making something pool low in his belly. He doesn’t deserve the look. After a moment, he says, “I’ll take you home.”

She sighs, reaching for his hand. “I know. I’m not used to this either. But I’m not driving myself nuts worrying about all the what-ifs. How about we just enjoy our last few months in high school? No supernatural threats. No more waking me up in the middle of night.” The last sentence is said with a touch of amusement. He gives her a small smile. It’s not a promise, but it’s all he can give her. She doesn’t say anything else.

*     *     *

Three weeks go by and not once has Stiles interrupted her sleep. They are past the point of him earning her forgiveness. She doesn’t know when or how it happened, but at some point, she forgot completely about the night of her party. She forgot about her plan. What she didn’t forget was her end goal. Not that she had made any progress.

Without those nightly trips, she and Stiles don’t see much of each other outside of school and Pack meetings. It’s like he’s been avoiding her, except he still meets her in the mornings and walks her to class. Lunch is spent going over homework that always ends up in a heated discussion. She’s noticed, albeit slightly, that her friends have started to watch them with something akin to fascination. Not that it’s completely on her radar. She does have a lot that’s keeping her mind occupied.

College acceptance letters are piling up--she’s yet to make a decision, not sure what she’s waiting for--and there’s graduation and the Pack and of course, Stiles. Lately, she’s noticed the bag under his eyes, his frequent yawning, and her mind is racing with deductions and conclusions.

One morning when he doesn’t show up at their usual meeting spot, she does something she’s never done before.

She skips school.

She doesn’t even knock before entering the Stilinskis’ home. There’s no sign of the Sheriff when she makes her way to his son’s bedroom. Not that she expected him to be there.

Pausing outside of the door, she has a moment of _oh my god what am I doing_ , but then brings herself to knock softly on the door. When she doesn’t get an answer, she makes a decision.  When she twists the knob and slides it open, she discovers Stiles laying shirtless on his belly, one arm hanging off the side of the bed, his face turned the opposite way toward the window. His blanket is on the floor, obviously kicked there. The sheet is wrapped around his abdomen and one bare leg is peeking out of it.

All Lydia can think about is the high probability of his being naked under that thin sheet. Cheeks flaming, though not from embarrassment, she hurriedly retreats to her car.

Once inside, she finally lets out her breath.

Her traitorous brain flashes through different scenarios that make her heart speed up and cheeks warm even more.

To say that she had let her worry get the better of her would have been an understatement. She’s never been so off-kilter in her life. Lydia was never one to make hasty decisions. 

Ever.

But something about Stiles Stilinski got under her skin and tempted her far more than it should. So much so that she was, even now, contemplating going back inside to see what would happen if she closed the door and woke him up.

 _Oh come on, what do you think he’s going to do? Fuck your brains out?_   Just the thought of that had her shaking and on edge.

 _Damn it!_ She couldn’t believe how much the sight of him had affected her. Glancing at the clock on her dash, she realized how early is still was. Not even ten in the morning.  There was no way in hell she was going back to school. No way she could face her classmates or… Yeah, no way in hell was she facing a bunch of werewolves like she was now.

Feeling oddly out of control, Lydia let her hand trail down her thighs while she imagined Stiles pulling her onto his bed and moving his hand up her thigh. Gooseflesh rose under her fingertips as they moved unconsciously where she saw Stiles’s. Her eyes closed, she pictured him leaning down to kiss her, letting his hand fall between her legs, rubbing over her panties.

Fuck, she was so wet just from the thought of this.

She bit her lips to stop a moan from escaping as she let herself picture that it was _Stiles’s_ hand slipping beneath her panties and stroking her clit in circles, imagining _his_ mouth moving over her neck and collarbone.

Heat poured over her face as she slipped a finger into herself and began to pump. She let her fantasy play out in her mind. Every move of her finger felt like a thrust of his cock. Her breath came out in puffs. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Warmth began to build at the center of her, and she wasn’t in a mood for teasing it out of herself. She wanted it hard, and she wanted it _now_.

Lydia began to move her fingers faster, and  _harder,_ and felt that crescendo all the way to the top. As she climaxed, his name slipped out between her lips.

 _Holy fuck_. She rode her orgasm for a couple moments and stilled, letting her breathing fall normally.

When she peeled her eyes open, she couldn’t stop the redoubling of heat that crept into her face as she realized what she had just done in broad daylight. In her car. In front of Stiles’s house.

 _Oh, my God_. Eyes wide, she sat there for another moment as her world adjusted and her mind processed what happened.

It took her a few tries to get her hand to stay still long enough for her to start her car. As soon as she managed, she pulled out and drove home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Yes, I know. It's been a while. I hope this makes up for it! This turned out better than I expected. As always, feel free to leave feedback! Next chapter will take place a week before the events of episode one of season six.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this has been edited as of 11-21-16. It's way longer than it originally was, so I hope you guys enjoy this version! I will definitely post another chapter as soon as I am able. I don't know how long this will or won't be. Just stay tuned and hope for the best! Also, yay for season six! I am already dying. :D Also, reviews, kudos, comments, criticism, all is welcome! Just don't be mean. Okay! That's all for now, lovelies! Hope you enjoy episode two tomorrow! I know I will. <3


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